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My house came with a garage sitting backwards on the corner of the lot. Like a good American, I moved in and promptly filled the garage with a bunch of stuff I use occasionally--coolers, shovels, wheelbarrows, bicycles, fasteners, odd pieces of wood, tools, snow tires, etc., and parked my car in the driveway. Well I am here to tell you that when you have to drive to work in the morning with the windshield wipers going so you can see out in September, a painful future of window-scraping awaits you (on days when you are too lazy to get out of bed early enough to ride the bus). So last night I used some of those tools and fasteners to hang miscellaneous garage-items on the walls, placed others in handily hung cabinets (thanks Pop!) and stacked a few more around the perimeter. Then I opened the big door and drove the car inside. In the fourteen years this car has been a part of my family, it has never had a garage space. But it does now! Spoiled in its old age.
And just in case you were missing any mention of the puppy, he was not a good garage-cleaning helper. This may come as a shock, but I assure you that it is true. Don't worry, later in the evening he got to play with his David and chew on his Leah and go on a big walk where he got stickers in his foot.
